Syzygy
by alexofthegarden
Summary: More than anything else, Dean would always remember that the moon was huge that night; a bright orange circle hanging in the middle of a faded blue sky, the face of the man in the moon staring down at him. He wished he'd look away. (Contains spanking of a minor)


Author's Note:

So, I have started binge-watching and have become obsessed with Supernatural. So of course...I write.

I need to thank my amazing new friend and beta, Edge_of_Clairvoyance, for everything she's done to inspire me and help make this story better.

Warning: Parental spanking of a minor

Supermoon: A full moon that approximately coincides with the closest distance that the Moon reaches to Earth in its elliptic orbit, resulting in a slightly larger-than-usual apparent size of the lunar disk as seen from Earth. The technical name is the perigee syzygy of the Earth–Moon–Sun.

Syzygy: a (usually) straight-line configuration of three or more celestial bodies in a gravitational system.

* * *

More than anything else, Dean would always remember that the moon was huge that night; a bright orange circle hanging in the middle of a faded blue sky, the face of the man in the moon staring down at him. "Angels are watching over you, Dean," his mother would always say. He didn't think they would be watching over him that night. Didn't want them to, if he was being honest. He'd be happy if the man in the moon looked away too.

The drive to Uncle Bobby's had been nearly silent, despite the fact that they'd left the motel first thing that morning and hadn't arrived until the sun was nearly setting. Their dad got out of the car and immediately went inside to talk to Bobby. Without a word, Dean knew what he had to do and he grabbed their bags, brought Sammy up to the bedroom they all shared and helped him unpack. Sam tried to whisper to him, but Dean just shook his head, told him to get ready for bed and go to sleep.

With Sam settled, there was nothing else to focus on except why they were there. Dean went to the bathroom, shaky with nerves, and gripped the sink to steady himself. He stared into the mirror, catching his own eye, and took a deep breath. It wasn't like he hadn't known leaving Sammy alone was wrong. It wasn't like he hadn't known what he'd get if his dad ever found out. It just never occurred to him that Dad would.

But he'd become a little bit more of a man last night and he was determined to take his punishment like one. So he tiptoed down the stairs, stopping when he heard raised voices.

"Oh for God's sake, John, give the kid a break. I'm sure you weren't any different as a boy."

Dean stayed silent and still against the railing, trying as best he could to disappear into the shadows. But out of sight out of mind was a difficult feat when the argument was about him in the first place. It didn't take long to realize things were going exactly how Dean had imagined they would. Uncle Bobby would try to protect him. His dad would never budge. And though Dean appreciated the attempt, he didn't think riling up his dad was really going to do him any favors.

"I was very different as a boy, Bobby, and you know it," his dad said. "My biggest worry was losing a football game, not my life or the lives of my family!"

"And tell me, John Winchester, whose fault is it exactly that winning a game ain't the biggest worry of Dean's life?" Bobby yelled.

Dean glanced up the stairs, praying Sammy was sleeping and not listening to this. If he was, he'd probably throw Uncle Bobby's words around for weeks until Dad had enough. Then he would be the one arguing to save Sam's ass.

"That boy needs to learn," John said and Dean cringed. Those words never led to anything good, not for him. "When I give a direct order I expect it to be obeyed. It was his job to protect Sam. And what did he do? Abandoned him for hours until Sam had worked himself up so much that he called me. I had to leave a job, Bobby. And for what? A pretty girl? If I don't nip this in the bud at twelve, I don't want to even think about what I'll be dealing with at sixteen."

"John, I don't disagree with you there. What he did was wrong. But there are other ways to deal with it."

"No," John said. "There aren't. We're hunters, Bobby. Always on the move, a different place every night, with jobs that have to be done or people die. There are no other ways. Direct, swift, painful, and done is what this life requires, and Dean knows that when he disobeys an order his ass is gonna pay for it."

"Well, not in this house." Bobby's face had gone red with anger. "You're not laying a hand on that boy, John. Not under my roof."

Dean held his breath. There were many times when Dad didn't agree with Bobby, but he had always told the boys that at Bobby's house, it was Bobby's rules. Still, Dean was his kid, and no one told John Winchester how to raise his boys, no matter whose roof he was under.

"Boy, you can quit your hiding, I know you're there," John called.

Dean's heart jumped to his throat. He didn't want to move, his fear told him that as long as he stayed under this roof he'd be okay. But instead he took that final step down the stairs and rounded the corner. Both men looked at him. Bobby's face was full of concern. His father's was nothing but business, not moving a muscle. "Go wait for me outside, Dean."

"John." Bobby was nearly pleading. "Don't do this."

Disobedience wasn't an option though, and Dean walked to the door, past the man trying to save his hide. "It's okay, Uncle Bobby," he nearly whispered. "I deserve it."

"John, you are a son of a bitch," Dean heard Bobby say just as he closed the front door behind him. He stayed near enough to try and hear if his Dad had anything to say to that. If Uncle Bobby had asked him, he could have told him that there wasn't any chance in hell of getting him out of what he had coming to him. Once Dad had made a decision, it was almost unheard of for him not to follow through. He just hoped Bobby wasn't making it worse.

He couldn't tell though. The men knew how to keep harsh words from young ears, even if they didn't choose to utilize that skill very often. So instead he turned, the sky lit up bright despite the late hour, and Dean walked over to one of the rusted old cars, leaning back against the passenger side door. Watching. Waiting. Trying not to panic. Trying to keep himself from running.

A slight breeze blew by and tickled at his lips. He closed his eyes and smiled. He could still feel the softness of Suzy's kiss, and see the shyness in her eyes as he leaned forward, cupping his hand behind her head like he'd seen in all the movies. He could still hear the slight intake of breath as their lips met, feel the warmth that flowed through his veins and sparked a magic light inside him when her tongue flicked his. Her lips pressed against his, Dean had felt the world come alive in ways he'd never truly noticed before. And when he'd finally torn himself away and walked the mile back to the motel where he'd left his little brother, his heart was racing. But for once it was for all the right reasons.

Until he'd seen the Impala parked in front of their motel room.

Bobby's front door opened and Dean was pulled out of his memories at the sight of his father walking toward him, reality about to smack him in the face. Or more likely, whip his ass.

John didn't say anything, just walked deeper into the junkyard, expecting Dean to follow, farther and farther from Bobby's house where Dean was sure his uncle paced back and forth, fretting about what John was about to do to him.

He'd thought he'd been in for it last night. He'd taken a deep breath before opening the motel door to face the music.

"Dad," Dean squeaked, trying and failing miserably to keep his surprise and fear out of his voice. "I thought you weren't home for-"

"Another couple of days, yes." John's voice was tight. Like he was using every muscle in his body to keep from screaming. "I shouldn't have been home yet and I wouldn't have been if you'd been watching over your little brother like you were ordered, so he didn't have to interrupt the hunt if there was something wrong."

For a second, Dean's panic redirected itself toward Sam, curled up now on the bed they shared. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Your brother's fine, Dean," Dad answered for him. "He just got scared, which he wouldn't have if you'd been here. Where you were supposed to be."

"I know." Dean hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you got caught," John corrected. Dean couldn't deny it was true. "We're all going to bed." Dean looked up, surprised. "And in the morning, since I can't trust you to take care of Sammy, we'll drive to Bobby's. Take care of business there," John added with a pointed glare toward his oldest.

"Yes sir," Dean said somberly.

"Here will do," John said as they came up behind a rusted out 1964 Buick Riviera that had been there ever since Dean could remember. Dean stopped, regaining his bearings, not exactly sure what his father wanted of him. But back straight and chin up was never a mistake.

Looking him in the eye may have been though. The rage he'd seen the night before was still there, no doubt reignited by Bobby's protestations. "Dean, what you did last night," his father started, his voice growing louder with every word, "was selfish, and irresponsible, and dangerous, and it could have gotten Sammy killed." Dean's stomach began to turn. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen his dad so angry. "When I am gone, your job is to take care of your brother. That's it. You do anything other than that and it's insubordination and I will not stand for it, is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Dean whispered. Of course he understood. He'd also understood it when he'd said yes to Suzy asking him out the night before.

His father knew it too. "Here's the thing, Dean." The boy held his breath. "I don't think anything I do to you here tonight is going to stop you from doing this again. No matter how hard I am on you, it's not going to make you think twice next time some girl catches your eye. A pretty girl is always going to win your time over your brother until you decide that Sam is more important. I won't pretend to think this punishment is going to change that. But I do expect the pain to be a reminder of what could happen to Sam the next time you're deciding whether or not to choose him or someone else, understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Hands on the trunk."

Dean tried as hard as possible not to flinch at the sound of the buckle's clink and the thick, heavy leather being pulled from its loops. Heart pounding in his chest, Dean turned, placed his hands flat on the car, and looked up at the moon, so big, so bright.

The first strike of John's belt ripped through his backside and Dean lost sight of the moon. His dad was an expert at this, and by default Dean was too, so he ducked his head and took a bite of his jacket collar between his teeth to keep himself quiet. His father struck again, and again, each time burning a new stripe slightly lower, slightly deeper into his skin, from the center of his ass down to his thighs. After six, Dean already felt like he was on fire but his dad didn't care. He just shifted his position to make his second set of stripes crisscross the first, setting them ablaze once more. Refusing to shout, refusing to cry, Dean's fingers flexed involuntarily off the car then curled into fists, forcing control, the heels of his hands pressed into the hard metal now the only thing holding him up. He squeezed his eyes shut.

In any other case, with anybody else, his father would be furious that he would stand there just letting someone tear into him. He knew that from the time he hadn't fought back against some stupid bullies at school. But for his father, he had long since learned that any attempt to fight back or plead for mercy only encouraged the strength of his arm. And he would never want his dad to think that he could break so easily.

Dean had lost count, but by the way his ass burned he was sure they must be close to twelve. He tried not to get his hopes up that it would soon be over. Usually his dad would give them no more than their age but the only one not forced to follow John Winchester's rules was John Winchester.

His instincts were right.

"Take a breath, Dean, and then we go again."

Knowing and knowing were two different things and Dean couldn't stop the tears from betraying him, flooding his eyes, but he caught his sob in his throat just seconds before it could escape. Twelve he could handle, he could think about other things, let his mind drift. But as soon as his father continued, there was nothing but pain, his arm swinging even stronger. He couldn't hold himself up anymore and he crossed his arms on the trunk, burying his head, muffling any cry or yell that may try to be heard. Hiding every tear.

There was no hiding though when the leather started raining down on his underside and the tops of his thighs where he would feel it for days anytime he sat. Over and over the blows fell and he knew that this is what Bobby feared. His tears streamed down his face, his breath hitched, and he fell so deep into the pain that he couldn't realize when his father had stopped or hear the clink of the buckle as he threaded his belt back through the loops.

But he did feel the hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles like it always had whenever he was upset, since Dean was a little boy. He wiped away the worst of his tears and slowly stood up. "Dad, I'm sorry."

"I hope you are," was all John said, turning Dean to him, lifting his chin until their eyes met. He didn't look quite as angry anymore. Just disappointed. "Because I count on you. I count on you to always be there for Sammy when I can't. Family looks out for each other. It doesn't abandon each other. Ever. Girls are a dime a dozen, Dean, but you will only ever have one brother. And if you don't take care of each other, who will?"

Dean didn't say that his Dad should. Dean didn't say that his mom should. Dean didn't say that he couldn't always be those things for Sammy, because just once he wanted to have something for himself. He would never tell his Dad that. Because the truth was, if his Dad couldn't count on Dean, then he couldn't count on anyone. Dean was all he had.

"I understand," Dean said quietly.

"Good," John said, and ruffled his hair with a slight smile. "Now why don't you head on back to the house. I'm sure Bobby wants to make sure you're still alive."

"Are you coming?" Dean sniffled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

John looked up at the house then back to Dean. "Can't imagine I'd be too welcome right now. Go on."

The walk back through the junkyard felt like it took twice as long as the walk there, his pants scraping his bruised skin with every step. He watched his father climb into the Impala and drive away. Dean didn't know if he was going to the bar in town or back to the job Dean had forced him to leave. At that moment, Dean wasn't sure which option he preferred.

He got to the front door and straightened up before walking back inside. He couldn't let his uncle know how bad it had been.

"Dean," Bobby said, standing from his desk and hurrying over to him. He placed his hands on the boy's biceps and looked him over top to bottom. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Bobby," Dean said.

Bobby glanced up at the door. "Where'd your daddy go?"

Dean shrugged. "Gone."

"He say when he's coming back?"

"No sir," Dean said.

Bobby looked down at him with some mix of pity and anger and Dean had to look away. He didn't like it at all.

"I know it doesn't seem fair. Your daddy was leaving you alone with Sam when you were eight. You've been taking care of yourself for a long time, but Sammy's never had to do that."

"He shouldn't have to." His brother deserved to have a little bit of normal, even if Dean never could.

"Your daddy does what he thinks is best for you boys," Bobby said but Dean wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to convince. "I hope you know that. He ain't always right, but he always tries."

Dean didn't need convincing though. "You don't have to tell me that." He believed it with all his heart. What his dad did, he did because he had to. And in this, Dean had given him no choice. "I'm gonna go upstairs. Check on Sammy."

"Okay," Bobby said, shuffling with a strange case of sudden shyness. "You, um, you let me know if you boys need anything."

Dean nodded. "Yes sir."

Up the stairs and into their bedroom, Dean stopped in the doorway, watching his little brother. His brown floppy hair peeking out from beneath the covers, Sam looked even younger than he was. Dean's heart suddenly clenched with anguish at the thought of something bad ever happening to him.

Dean gingerly sat down on the bed and brushed his little brother's hair off his eyes. "Hey, Sammy," he whispered. "You awake?"

"That depends," came Sammy's muffled voice.

Dean chuckled. "Depends on what?"

"On whether you're mad at me for calling Dad."

Dean couldn't lie. He had been. He'd left Sam with instructions to salt and lock the door and not to let anyone in, no matter what they said. Dean told him he'd be perfectly safe. But they had both known that wasn't necessarily true. And Dean shouldn't blame Sam for being scared without Dean there to protect him.

"No, Sammy. I'm not mad."

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam's eyes darted frantically. "I heard a noise and I...I couldn't shake it and…I guess I didn't think Dad would actually come home and I didn't think about you if he did and..."

"Sammy, it's okay." He pulled his little brother up and into his arms. Sam snuggled into his chest. Dean could feel him shuddering, trying to hold back his tears. "Hey, shhh..." Dean stroked his hair. "I'm not mad, I promise. I just hope you're not mad at me."

Sammy pulled away and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"For leaving you alone. I shouldn't have done that."

Sam shook his head. "No. I'm eight years old, I should be able to take care of myself. You took care of me at my age."

Dean just scoffed and shook his head. "Yeah, well I'm tough. You're just a girl," he teased, tousling his hair.

Sam glared at him, but he was used to the teasing, knew his brother didn't mean it. Dean felt his little brother lean back into him and followed his gaze, out the window, where the moon was looking almost majestic. "Do you know that the moon's only like that once a year?" Sam said quietly. "A Supermoon. When it's at its closest point to the earth."

"Nerd," Dean quipped.

"I think it's kind of sad," Sam said. "The moon is so big and so bright when it's close to the Earth. But the world keeps turning and the further apart they get, the smaller and dimmer the moon becomes. It looks colder too. Like it needs the earth to glow."

"First a nerd now a philosopher?" Dean said. Sam scowled and pushed him playfully, shifting Dean slightly on the bed. He winced despite his best efforts.

Sam's face softened. "Dad gave you a whipping?"

Lying about it wouldn't do him any good. Sam knew him too well for that. "Yeah."

"Uncle Bobby let him?"

"You really think Dad gave him a choice? Uncle Bobby said not under his roof so Dad just took me outside."

"Was it bad?"

If he was honest, it was one of the worst he'd gotten. But Sammy didn't need to know that. So he just held him closer. "Don't you worry about it. Nothing more than I deserved."

Sammy nodded. "So. That girl." Sam gave him a little smile. "She kiss you?"

Dean blushed and ducked his head. "Yeah. Yeah, she did."

"Was it worth it?"

"Worth the whipping?" Dean didn't even have to think about it. "Definitely. But knowing I made you scared enough to call dad?" His dad was right. Girls would come and go, but Sam was irreplaceable. Dean would never let one come between him and his brother. He would always stay close, so Sammy's light never dimmed. "No. It wasn't worth that at all."


End file.
